


This Was It

by Seshat_Scribe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:35:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23494666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seshat_Scribe/pseuds/Seshat_Scribe
Summary: Dean knew this was it.He and Sam had finally pushed their luck too far. It figured it'd be a stupid mistake that did it. They should've been more careful, more suspicious, less cocky. After everything they'd been through and everything they'd faced down and everything they'd beaten they should've known better. They'd gotten too big, too well known; they had a price on their heads. They'd overlooked the obvious. They'd fallen right into the trap and this was it.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	This Was It

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys,
> 
> This is really just a self-indulgent bit of Dean and Cas fluffy-angsty-schmoop to help pass the time in self-isolation. It's nothing particularly original but hopefully it'll still be a nice read. This is my first time posting here and my first time posting any fanfic in a while, so please be gentle (although constructive criticism is always gratefully and graciously received).
> 
> There's no spoilers or particular setting for this, although Ellen is mentioned so it's pre season 5 episode 10 (Abandon All Hope). Apologies for any details I may have got wrong (can we call it artistic license?) or any typos as this is self-betaed. Also, I'm British, so apologies if I have made any mistakes with life in America and/or Americanisms.
> 
> It's fairly tame over-all, teen rating is for swearing and hints at slash.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or Dean or Sam or Cas or any of the characters. This is purely a product of my slightly twisted imagination and just for fun, no offence is ever meant.

Dean knew this was _it_.

He and Sam had finally pushed their luck too far. It figured it'd be a stupid mistake that did it. They should've been more careful, more suspicious, less cocky. After everything they'd been through and everything they'd faced down and everything they'd beaten they should've known better. They'd gotten too big, too well known; they had a price on their heads. They'd overlooked the obvious. They'd fallen right into the trap and _this_ was it.

“Dean!”

Dean pushed himself up at Sam's choked call. His arms shook with the effort and pain blossomed bright and sharp in his chest as his ribs protested violently. He was pretty sure they were broken. That and a lot more besides he guessed. He could barely see for the blood that stung his eyes but he still twisted round, searching for his brother.

“Sammy, you okay?” Dean asked, grimacing at the stupid question.

“Better than you, fuck, Dean.” Suddenly Sam was there, all long limbs and calming words and calloused hands checking carefully for injuries. Dean squinted and – _Jesus –_ if Sam looked better than him then he really must look terrible because Sam looked _really_ terrible. His brother's shirt was shredded, a thick bleeding line slashed across his chest, his skin reddened and raw, and his hair slicked with blood and dirt, and sweat from the heat of the fire that was everywhere. Dean knew this fire, had been burned by it before. The warehouse – and it figured it'd be a bloody _warehouse_ – abandoned and isolated and ruined, was disintegrating around them, concrete ruptured and rendering, walls cracked and toppling and bricks and mortar crumbling to dust. He'd tell Sam to run but there was nowhere left to run to.

“Don't think we're getting out of this one, Sammy,” Dean said, voice cracked, throat burnt. Sam swallowed and shook his head.

Dean hoped Sam wasn't scared or angry or disappointed, even though he knew he must be; he hoped he'd managed to make up for some of the mistakes he'd made, even though he knew he couldn't have; he hoped Cas was right when he said that heaven was better, not fixed but better, even though he didn't believe him when he said Dean had a place there. He hoped that Sam did though. With everything Dean had left he prayed that Sam did. He prayed to anyone, anything that would listen; to God, to the Angels, all the Angels and any Angel, their Angel. His Angel – please, please let Sam be okay, help Sam please. Get him to Heaven. Get him Safe.

Dean closed his eyes tight, he didn't want to see any more. Didn't want to see Sam, didn't want to see the damage, the destruction and the death and the decay that surrounded them. Didn't want to see the Demons – the fucking _gleeful_ Demons – with their twisted, vicious sneers and their bitter, triumphant laughter. The sound of it shattered Dean's ears, splintering up his spine, worse than a thousand nails on a thousand chalkboards. He reached out for Sam, blistered fingers twisting in the remains of Sam's shirt, prayers loud and desperate and defiant against the onslaught.

And then – a flash of light so bright it exploded behind Dean's eyelids, an echo of wrathful thunder so loud it split the air, and the shrieking, gloating laughter turned to shrieking howls of pain and anger but the thunder was madder still. The building shook and a shattered storm of broken glass rained down. And behind it all, a sense of calm and the throb of wingbeats, strong and fast and sure.

And Dean knew that this _was_ it.

And that was okay.

***

“Dean? Dean!” Dean groaned at the distant voice and the gentle but insistent shaking of his shoulder and he fought his way back through the dark because he recognised the voice and he didn't like the worry in it. “Woah. Easy.”

“Sam? Wha – what? Where are we?” Dean asked, fog thick in his head. It cleared slowly and he remembered. Demons. Death. Destruction. He raised a hand to brush the blood from his face only to pause halfway; his fingers were no longer twisted and broken, his skin clear. And … he didn't hurt any more. He blinked in confusion. “Are we dead, Sammy?” he asked, because that was the only explanation he could think of.

Sam shook his head and Dean thought _thank_ _god_ – that Sam looked okay too; his eyes were startled wide, but he was okay. “No, I don't think so. But they are,” he answered with a grim smile and a tilt of his head.

Dean looked. The fire was gone, leaving charred and blackened concrete in its place. Broken glass was strewn everywhere. The Demons _were_ dead, their bodies contorted and charred, their eyes burnt, sockets hollow and sunken and blackened. And he and Sam were healed.

“Sam – wha..” Dean muttered, bewildered as he pushed himself to his knees. “What the Hell happened?”

“I don't know.” Sam shrugged. “One minute we're...” he trailed off. “And the next... I woke up and it was all over. Do you think – I mean, could it've been Angels?”

Dean exhaled slowly and paused, thinking. It made sense, it _had_ to be Angels. Only Angels left Demons looking like that. But … only one Angel would do this for the Winchesters. “Cas,” he said quietly with slowly creeping realisation. Sam's eyes widened.

“Could he? I mean, could he do all this?”

“I don't know,” Dean said, because he didn't, but it was the only thing that made sense. “Cas?” he said, louder, worriedly, as he looked around, because if it _had_ been Cas that did all this then where was he? “Cas?” he said, louder still, sharing a concerned glance with Sam as he scanned the room because if it _was_ Cas then where-the-Hell-was-he and what had been the cost?

“Dean! There!” Sam called suddenly, pointing, and Dean followed the direction, eyes wide.

Dean's stomach flipped. There at the far side of the room, amidst the glass and the debris, lay a body curled on the floor. It was wrapped in a dirty and torn and painfully familiar trench coat.

It _was_ Cas.

And he wasn't moving.

***

“Cas!” Dean called, cursing as he clambered up. Sam was right by him as they ran across the room, glass crunching under their feet.

“Jeez, Cas,” Dean whispered thickly as he dropped down next to their motionless friend. He moved to touch Cas but stopped himself, a tight knot in his chest as he looked to Sam. “Stupid son of a bitch... Is he..?” he asked around the lump in his throat, unable to finish.

Sam pressed long fingers to Cas' throat and leant down, his cheek hovering close to Cas' lips. Dean's breath caught as he waited, and after a few long seconds Sam lifted up and nodded, relief clear on his face and Dean finally exhaled.

“Christ.” Dean leant forward, resting his hand on Cas' shoulder, able to touch him now he knew that he was alive. “Cas? Come on buddy,” he said more loudly with a gentle shake to Cas' shoulder.

Cas gasped and coughed, choking out a mouthful of blood and Dean eased an arm around his shoulder, carefully sitting him up. “Okay, okay. Easy. You're okay. Just breathe. That's it, you're okay,” Dean murmured softly, rubbing Cas' back.

Cas kept coughing, blood bubbling from his lips and dribbling from his nose as he struggled to catch his breath. Eventually his breathing eased to still-rasping, but regular, heaves. After a second he groaned, doubling over, a pained grimace on his face. Dean let him, his hand still pressed firm and steady to Cas' back.

“Okay, Cas. You're okay. Just keep breathing, nice and steady. That's it, you're okay.”

“Wha... what happened?” Cas asked after a long few seconds, voice strained and breathy as he sat up a little.

“We were hoping you could tell _us_ that,” Dean said, with a small, careful smile as he moved to settle his hand on Cas' shoulder.

“Dean,” Cas' eyes were narrow, brow furrowed in confusion. “Sam?”

“Right here, Cas,” Sam said gently, moving forward into Cas' line of sight.

Cas exhaled slowly, nodding. “You're okay,” he said quietly, relief thickening his tone. “That's good” he said, blinking slowly. “You're both okay.”

Dean exchanged a look with Sam, who continued, voice still quiet and reassuring, “Yeah, we're okay, Cas. You remember what happened now?”

Cas closed his eyes and grimaced, releasing a shaky breath. “I...” He opened his eyes, levelling a look on Dean that would've been a glare had his eyes not been so clouded, “I do. But I would rather I didn't. I... I was afraid I was too late this time.”

Dean squeezed Cas' shoulder. “You weren't Cas. But Christ, what did you do?”

Cas sighed. “What I had to.” Cas looked down and Dean frowned at Sam. “I... I am glad it worked. I was not sure it would. You were both...” he trailed off, shaking his head.

“It worked, Cas,” Sam said softly. And Cas looked at him for a second, nodding, before he turned back to Dean.

Dean smiled, unsteady and a little too wide. “Hell yeah it worked. Whatever the hell you did, you just blew 'em all away.”

Cas closed his eyes, looking more tired that Dean could remember him looking. He sighed as he looked back at Dean. “It wasn't that easy, Dean,” he said, but the tightness at his jaw eased a fraction.

“Okay,” Dean said, his grip on Cas' shoulder loosening. He glanced over Cas – at the tatty trench coat and the bruises on his face, the split lip and _all_ the blood – and frowned, sharing a look with Sam. “Alright, Cas, you saved the day again... You fried the bad guys and fixed us up, don't you think it's time to you know... Doctor, heal thyself and all that?”

Cas frowned. “I am not a doctor, Dean.” He paused, then said, more quietly, “I don't think I can.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked, worry fluttering in his stomach. “Can't you just zap yourself, or whatever it is you do? 'Cos I gotta say it, Cas, you're not looking too good.”

“I do not feel too good.” Cas grimaced, pushing himself up a bit more. “But I'm out of energy. I can't heal myself, not at the moment.”

Dean cursed, sitting back on his heels, away from Cas. Cas hacked out a cough.

“I … I won't be able to fly anywhere either, but... if you...”

“Shit.” Dean cut him off with another angry curse. “You saying your batteries are completely dead?”

“I...” Cas frowned then sighed, nodding. “Yes, I suppose so. I am sorry Dean.”

“Great,” Dean said, frustration making him gruff and short. “Next time we get an Angel, Sam, remind me to check it runs on Duracell.”

“Dean.”

“I don't understand that reference.” Cas grimaced and Dean sighed, worry and irritation mixing in his gut. Cas continued, looking away from Dean. “I don't want to be a burden. If you could just leave me somewhere safe I will recover presently.”

“What?” Sam cut in again. “We're not leaving you, Cas. Dean, tell Cas he's being...”

“An idiot, yeah, I know Sammy,” Dean sighed, nudging Cas' shoulder until he looked back to him. “Quit being an idiot. You're family, you know that. Come on, lets get you up,” he finished, slipping an arm around Cas' waist and pulling him gently up before Cas could say anything else. Sam moved to help. “Upsy-daisy. There you go,” he said once they'd got Cas on his feet, the two of them steadying him as he swayed. “Woah. You're okay.”

Cas exhaled, nodding once he'd gained his balance. “What... What are you going to do?”

Sam shrugged. “Find a motel nearby I guess. And wait it out 'til you're okay again.”

Frowning again, Cas said, “You don't have to stay. I'll be fine in...”

“Cas.” Dean cut him off, tone curt and eyes hard as he glared at him, after a second he sighed and his expression softened. “Just... shut up, okay. We've been through this already. You're family. We're staying. That's final.”

Cas swallowed and nodded, and the gratitude in his eyes made Dean's stomach clench. “Thank you.”

An uncomfortable feeling was growing inside Dean, one he couldn't place and didn't want to think about. He cleared his throat and willed it away. “Alright. Okay. Don't know about you two ladies but I'd really like to get outta here..”

***

Sam helped Dean settle Cas into the back of the Impala. He looked pale and drawn Cas and it made Dean's stomach twist unpleasantly. His face was pinched and his skin clammy and that just wasn't right because Angel's didn't sweat and they didn't stay hurt and everything about this situation was wrong.

“How're our supplies doing?” Dean asked as he settled in to the driver's seat and switched on the ignition.

“We could do with some more pain meds,” Sam replied, buckling his seatbelt. “I'm guessing Cas'll need more than the regular dose.”

Dean huffed out a little laugh. “It'd take less to put an elephant to sleep.” He glanced in the rear-view mirror and his smile faded. Cas' breathing was laboured and he looked dazed. His eyes were closed and his head was tipped forward and down, chin pressed to his chest and jaw clenched tightly.

“You okay in the back?”

Cas winced as he looked up slowly, catching Dean's eye. “I... I am okay. I'm just not used to feeling like this for so long. This car is uncomfortable.”

“Hey. Don't dis baby. She's a sweet ride,” Dean said and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Just hang in there, Cas,” Sam said, with a sympathetic smile to Cas as he looked up from his laptop. “We'll get you out of here as soon as we can.” He turned back to Dean. “There's a hunter friendly motel about twenty minutes away.”

“Hunter friendly?”

“Ellen sent me a list of places that don't ask questions,” Sam clarified and Dean nodded.

“Good thinking.”

“The nearest late night chemist's in a town another forty minutes or so away though.”

Dean grimaced and rubbed his temple. “You gonna last that long?”

Cas sighed and looked up again. After a long second he nodded slowly. “I'll be fine, Dean. Don't worry about me.”

“Yeah, little hard under the circumstances.”

Sam stole a glance at Cas then caught Dean's eye, shaking his head. “Why don't we take Cas to the motel first, you two can a room and get settled. I don't mind driving to town to get supplies.”

“You sure?” Dean would've protested normally, he didn't like anyone, even Sam, driving the Impala, but Cas really didn't look good. Sam nodded and Dean smiled in grateful relief.

***

“Hey, wakey wakey. We're here,” Dean said, turning in the seat he reached back to nudge Cas' knee. “Come on sleeping beauty.”

Cas blinked. “I wasn't...” He frowned, brow furrowed in drowsy confusion. “I don't sleep.”

“Could've fooled me,” Dean said with a grin. “You were snoring like a bear.”

Cas' eyes widened and Dean's stomach uncoiled a touch at the indignant look on his face. “I do _not_ snore,” he bristled, gasping as he sat up a bit too quickly.

Dean's expression sobered. “Hey. Easy there. You okay?”

Cas exhaled slowly and nodded. “Yes. I.. I think so.”

“Okay, lets get you inside.” Dean helped Cas out of the car, steadying him as he stood up. His hand hovered by Cas' shoulder, his brow furrowed in concern until Cas seemed settled. He turned to look at Sam and frowned at the smile on his face. “What?”

“Nothing.” Sam's expression didn't alter and Dean scowled.

“Seriously, what?” Sam shook his head, still smiling and Dean sighed in irritation. “Whatever. Just gimme a card to pay for this place.”

Sam laughed and pulled out his wallet, sifting through various credit cards until he found one he seemed happy with. “This one should work,” he said, holding it out, he pulled it back though before Dean could take it and Dean glared at him.

“Seriously, Sam.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam said, grinning as he held the card out again. “Just mention Ellen's name and they'll leave us be apparently.” Dean snatched the card and sighed as Sam kept his hand out, frowning as he dropped the car keys into his brother's outstretched palm. “Thank you!” Sam smirked.

“Whatever,” Dean groused. “Don't scratch it!” Sam just shrugged and Dean narrowed his eyes. “I mean it, Sam. Drive. Carefully.”

Still frowning, Dean turned away, choosing to ignore Sam's irritating grin as he pulled his own hold-all from the boot. His brother could lug his own stuff. And Cas didn't have any because he just 'Angel mojo-ed' himself ready if and he needed to. Usually anyway. Dean turned to look at Cas and sighed at the way he was standing, awkward and unbalanced, one hand on the roof of the car to keep himself steady.

“You okay?” he asked and it took Cas a second to acknowledge him.

“Yes. I... I'm just tired.”

Dean nodded. “I bet. Can you walk on your own?”

The familiar spark of indignation flared in Cas' eyes again and Dean was glad to see it. “Of course I can,” he said, eyes narrow. He blinked as he moved and swayed, his expression shifting to confusion as Dean steadied him.

“Alright. Take your time, speedy. You okay?”

“Yeah... Yes,” Cas said after a moment and Dean paused, watching him for a few seconds before he nodded, turning to Sam who was observing them far too closely for Dean's liking. He cleared his throat and raised an eyebrow in question.

Sam shrugged, looking from Dean to Cas and back again slowly. “I'm gonna be awhile so … just look after him,” he said pointedly and Dean bristled in irritation.

“Look after _my car_.”

Sam just rolled his eyes and muttered incoherently as he turned to get in the car. Dean chose to ignore him.

“Okay, come on,” Dean said, turning back to Cas. “And dude, tell me if you feel dizzy or anything, don't wanna have to haul your heavy arse up if you faint on me.” Dean smirked and Cas groaned and narrowed his eyes.

“When I am better, Dean...” Cas growled, warning clear in his voice and Dean grinned because he'd take that tone over pain and tiredness any day.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Princess.” Dean grinned at Cas' expression as he bent to pick up his hold-all. The hand he placed on Cas' back was sure and steadying. Cas was warmer than usual and even through the layers of clothing Dean could feel the shift of Cas' muscles and the strength in his frame. He didn't move it until they were safely stood at the check-in desk, telling himself he was just making sure that Cas was okay.

***

“Hey there.” Dean cracked a smile at the bored looking girl behind the counter. The look she levelled at them both in return was wary. “Ellen recommended you,” Dean added and the girl sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Figures,” She said. “So is it just the two of you?”

“My brother's gone for supplies. He'll be back in an hour or two.”

“How long you staying?”

Dean glanced at Cas. “Two nights probably, maybe three?” he asked and Cas shrugged.

Sighing and grumbling, almost under his breath, Cas replied, “Maybe. Less. I hope.”

The girl turned to her computer, clicking through a few pages and skim-reading the screen. “Okay, I guess you can have the family suite. Three nights tops though okay, just call it a hundred.”

“Okay, that's great.” Dean raised his eyebrows, pulling out the card to pay. “Very generous.”

She shrugged. “Like I said, Ellen helped me out a while back so...” She paused looking at Cas. “And the mini-bars on the house tonight. You look like you could use it.”

Cas' answering smile was closer to a grimace. “Thank you.”

“Second floor,” the girl said, once Dean had paid, dropping a key-card on the counter. “Don't bring any crap back here, okay, and keep your heads down. I'm not losing my job over this shit.”

Dean flashed the girl a charming smile and held up his hands. “You have my word as a gentleman.”

She rolled her eyes but the corner of her mouth twitched anyway. “Yeah, okay. Don't make a mess!” she said, hiding a smile. “Damages are extra.”

Dean nodded, promising that they'd be careful. He picked up the key-card, his hand returning to its place on Cas' back as they made their way to the lift.

The second the doors slid shut behind them Cas groaned and leaned back against the mirrored wall.

“You okay?” Dean asked, sliding his hand out from behind Cas' back. It felt cold.

Cas rubbed at his eyes tiredly and snapped, glaring at Dean, “Do I _look_ okay to you _?_ ”

Dean frowned. “Yeah, okay, just asking. Sucks to be so... _human._ I'm sorry.”

Cas sighed and looked down. “No, I'm sorry, Dean. This isn't your fault. I... I'm just not used to this, it is unpleasant and... tiring.”

“Yeah. Look it's okay,” Dean said with a sympathetic half-smile. “You should hear me and Sam.”

Cas raised a soft laugh at that, shaking his head around a small wince as he looked back up at Dean. “Oh I do. _Frequently_.”

***

The room wasn't bad as motel rooms went. It was musty and the furniture was mismatched and scratched and the wallpaper was dated but it was actually pretty spacious and mostly clean. There was a bedroom with a double and a separate twin, a large - albeit very _avocado –_ bathroom and a little shared living area with a tattered but comfy looking suite, a coffee table and a TV and a desk with a kettle and a microwave and a little fridge-cum-mini-bar.

Dean helped Cas out of his coat, tossing it in the bathroom, and guided him to the sofa. Cas winced as he sat down, holding his side as he tried to make himself comfortable. He looked down at his feet, frowning in irritation at his shoes.

Dean smiled, shaking his head at Cas' expression. “Here, let me...” Cas' eyes widened as Dean knelt down to help him. “You okay?” Dean asked softly as he looked up at Cas, his hands resting on Cas' knees. Cas sighed, shaking his head.

“No. I'm _sore_. It is uncomfortable.”

“I bet,” Dean said softly. “Lemme see if I can help with that...” Standing up, Dean moved to where he'd dropped his hold-all, rifling through it until he found a little bottle of pills. He took two glasses from the desk, grabbed a fifth-bottle of whiskey from the mini-bar and poured two healthy measures. “What?” Dean smiled innocently at Cas' look. “You heard the lady, she said the mini-bar was free...”

“I'm pretty sure she meant for me” Cas said pointedly.

Dean just shrugged, passing one of the drinks and the pills to Cas. “Here, knock yourself out.”

Cas frowned. “It will take more than that to knock me out, Dean,” he said and Dean laughed in fond-exasperation.

“Whatever, Bukowski. Just take the damn pills.”

Cas frowned. “My name's Castiel, Dean,” he said, grimacing as he swallowed the tablets with a mouthful of the liquor. “How long will it take?”

Dean sighed. “For a normal person? That much'd kick in in minutes. For you … God knows.”

“I cannot ask God,” Cas said, seriously, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, that's the point. It's a _saying._ Like – God only knows because _I_ don't. We use it when we don't know something.”

“Oh. Okay.” Cas paused, and he looked so uncertain and still so _tired_ and that weird feeling in Dean's stomach was coming back. He took a swallow of his whiskey hoping to ease it. It didn't work.

“So,” Dean asked, the silence feeling unusually uncomfortable. “Has this happened before? You know, you losing your juice like this?”

Cas frowned. “Juice..? Oh,” He shrugged. “Yes. It's not common, but sometimes when I do too much it takes a while to replenish my strength. Being in this form, on earth, it limits me somewhat. It is inconvenient I know. I apologise, but it will return. And … hopefully it won't take too long.”

Dean frowned, running a hand through his hair and rubbing at his eyes. “Don't apologise. It's not that it's _inconvenient...”_ he trailed off, sighing, not sure how to finish that sentence. “Look, if you hadn't 'Angel-mojo'd' in like that... me and Sam wouldn't be here now. I mean, that was you wasn't it … the light and the noise. That was you … the _actual_ you?”

“Yes, it was a risk, appearing like that but I calculated it was called necessary. It was the quickest way to destroy that number of Demons. You and Sam need to be more careful.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “Hunters, remember,” he said pointedly. Cas sighed.

“I know, Dean, it is just … you were nearly dead when I got there, Dean, both you and Sam...”

Dean looked away from Cas, taking another swig of his drink, savouring the heat that flowed through his chest and bloomed in his stomach. He just wished it would ease the sudden queasiness there. He swallowed. “I … how did you know to come?” he asked before his brain could kick in that maybe that was a question he didn't want to hear the answer to.

“I heard your prayers Dean, I always do,” Cas answered and he so sounded serious and solemn that it made something in Dean's chest clench painfully. “You never pray for yourself, Dean. Only ever for Sam. You pray for me to save him... But this time, you prayed for me to save his soul. I … I knew that it was bad. I knew I had to be quick and I knew I had to be fierce.” Dean felt a shiver down his spine at that but he suppressed it, listening as Cas continued, “And so I came as I did.” He paused, breathing slowly. “It was not an easy prayer to hear from you, Dean.” Dean's stomach flipped and he took another quick swallow of alcohol to settle it. He moved to cut in, to say something, but he didn't know what – not sorry, because he wasn't sorry, not for what he'd asked anyway, because it had been for Sam, and he would do anything for his brother. He was sorry Cas had to hear it though. It was always Cas, and he knew that had to be a burden and he _was_ sorry for that. And Cas' tone was so sombre, even for him, that Dean felt he _needed_ to say _something_. Cas saved him from finding the words though. “It's a prayer I would not care to hear you repeat. If I could choose...” Cas took a breath. “But I would hear you, Dean, no matter how hard. And I would come and I would do what I could, I always will. But, if I was too late...” Cas trailed off, voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. “If I was too late or I could not save you... then I would comply. I would take Sam's soul – _and yours_ – to heaven if I had to. And I would break down the doors if they would not let me in.”

“Christ Cas. I...” Dean really didn't know what to say to that, his throat tight. Because what _could_ he say? The sentence hung in the air, words heavy but the atmosphere heavier. “I don't...”

“It's okay, Dean,” Cas said, his voice so quiet and soft and _soothing_ and – why was _Cas_ soothing him when it was Cas that was hurt? Dean looked away, running a hand over his face and finishing the last of his drink in one large swallow.

“Cas...” he started then paused in frustration, unable to finish and annoyed with himself that he couldn't “I... _thank you,”_ he said with a sigh because that was all he could say. “Just … thank you.”

“It's okay,” Cas said again and Dean did look at him this time. There was nothing but kindness in Cas' face now, and that thing in Dean's chest clenched again. “You would do the same for me. You _have._ ”

Dean started at that, looking at Cas with wide eyes, because nothing he'd done for Cas could compare to that promise, surely. He swallowed, turning away and busying himself pouring another drink. Part of him wished he could think of something to say and part of him wished they'd never started this conversation in the first place because it just felt too raw.

***

“So, um...” Dean tried awkwardly, his eyes fixed resolutely on his glass as he swirled the amber liquid within it. He glanced at Cas and looked away quickly because Cas was looking straight at him, a quiet, unreadable expression on his face that seemed to pierce right through to the core of him. Dean wondered what Cas saw there but figured he probably wouldn't want to know. After a second Dean looked back, stealing something inside himself this time to hold Cas' gaze for one-two seconds longer than he could bear. A strange knot was forming in Dean's chest, tight and uncomfortable, and he swallowed, forcing it down to his stomach where it sat heavy like a stone. Just one among many.

If Cas noticed his discomfort (and of course he did because it was Cas and he could read Dean like a God-Damm comic book) he chose to ignore it and Dean's stomach jolted despite his gratitude because that wasn't Cas. Cas should say something, something honest and awkward and cuttingly-open because he always did. So why the hesitation now? What was this new quiet subtlety, this careful, guarded caution? Dean wondered at it and where Cas had learnt it and how and why and _from whom?_ The answers swam in Dean's blood, creeping like fingers up his spine and firing hot across raw nerves until his skin tingled and his fingers itched.

Taking a steadying drink, Dean cleared his throat and tried again, “The uh, meds kicking in yet?” he asked, desperate for a distraction, a diversion from Cas' probing attention. He swung for casual but struck out, missing by a mile. It was obvious what he was doing, but again Cas let him off.

“I … I think so.” Cas' voice was strained still, thin at the edges and Dean felt a familiar stab of guilt. Cas was injured, in pain and stuck like that and he was still trying to reassure Dean. And Dean was so awkward and choked up that he couldn't reply, couldn't explain how he was feeling because he didn't know and he didn't know how and it was so frustrating. Cas continued and Dean caught the ghost of a smile in his tone this time, “The whiskey is helping though. It's warming.”

Dean exhaled a laugh, his lips curling in a sardonic smile as he raised his glass in a toast to no one. “It is that,” he said, knocking the rest of it back in one. “Didn't think it affected you though?”

Cas paused, then said, “It doesn't, usually. But I am... weaker, now, and that seems to be making a difference.”  
  
“Makes sense,” Dean said, nodding to himself. “... You're more human I suppose... Still,” he continued, forcing gaiety, “one advantage to this flat battery thing. Makes you a cheap date!”

Dean chuckled at the bemused look on Cas' face. For a second he didn't think Cas got it, but then Cas' smile widened and his eyes brightened and Dean's stomach did a stupid little somersault.

“Technically,” Cas said, wiggling his glass at Dean, “I'm a _free_ date, since this is on the house.”

“That,” Dean said with a wide grin, “is a very good point. And one that definitely deserves drinking to.”

Dean grabbed the whiskey again and poured himself another with an exaggerated flourish, glad of the subject change. He gestured with the bottle, motioning for Cas' glass as he moved forward to refill it. He stopped abruptly though, watching with widening eyes as Cas reached forward then groaned suddenly, his glass spilling to the floor as he clutched at his stomach, doubling over with a grimace.

“Cas? You okay?” Dean asked, worry flaring in his stomach. “What's wrong? Cas?”

Cas shook his head roughly and panted as he looked up at Dean. “Moved too quick,” he ground out. “Hurts.”

Dean frowned and moved quickly forward, depositing his glass on the coffee table as he knelt down in front of Cas, his hands on Cas' knees as he looked up at him.

“Okay. Easy. Just breathe, that's it.”

After a few, too-long minutes, Cas' breathing steadied a bit and he looked down at Dean. His eyes were glazed and pinched and Dean frowned.

“Okay?” Dean asked and Cas nodded.

“Yeah, better. A bit.”

“Okay, good. Where's it hurt?” Dean asked and he could kick himself, because he'd been so indignant when Sam had told him to look after Cas but what had he actually done? He'd tossed him some pain meds and a drink and that had been it. He should've gone to get supplies instead and let Sam stay here with Cas because Sam was so much better at this stuff than Dean.

Cas puffed out a breath and winced as he sat up straighter. He rested his hand on his left side and said, tightly, “Here.”

“'Kay. Mind if I take a look?”

Cas said nothing, just moved his hands and awkwardly unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it open. Dean winced in sympathy at the bruise that was blossoming yellow and black and purple across Cas' stomach and creeping up to chest. He looked like he'd been side-swiped by a two-by-four. Dean paused, catching Cas' eye as he reached out his hand, hovering, palm just millimetres from Cas' skin. He could feel the heat that radiated from him and swallowed down the strange fluttering in his stomach. Cas nodded his permission and Dean's breath caught in his throat at the open, trusting expression on Cas' face.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay,” Dean instructed, his voice hushed and unsteady and a bit rough. Cas nodded again and Dean held his breath as he carefully splayed his hand across Cas' stomach. Cas' skin was hot and smooth and his muscles taut and firm, like silk-over-steel. Cas' breathing hitched and Dean snapped his eyes up.

“Your hand's cold,” Cas said with an awkward little half-smile and Dean breathed a laugh.

“Sorry.” Dean grinned up at Cas. “Okay?”

Cas nodded and Dean continued, spreading his fingers over Cas' skin, smoothing his palm over the curve of his stomach and up, gently to his ribcage. He tried to concentrate on the ridges of Cas' ribs under his fingers and not the unsettling warmth pooling at the pit of his stomach.

“Ah..” Cas hissed suddenly and Dean paused, looking up at Cas for confirmation. Cas nodded. “Yeah. There.”

“Okay.” Dean nodded and probed carefully over the sensitive area, feeling for any damage under the skin. “This might hurt a bit,” he said with an apologetic look and Cas nodded. Dean pressed down more firmly, feeling Cas tense. He shifted his free hand forward to rest on Cas' thigh, fingers easing tight muscles. Cas' breathing hitched. “Okay,” Dean continued softly. “Can you breathe in and hold it for a min?”

Cas did so and Dean felt the rise and expansion of his chest beneath his palm. He pushed down more firmly and winced as he felt bones shift and grate under the pressure. “Nearly done. Breathe out slowly.” Dean listened carefully as Cas did so and sighed in relief when he heard no whistle or hiss from Cas' lungs. “Okay, good.”

Sitting back a little, Dean looked up at Cas. “You've broken a couple of ribs,” he said with a grimace. “There's not a lot I can do except top you up with painkillers when Sam gets back, sorry, Cas.” Dean frowned, feeling bad because how many times had Cas healed him? But Cas just smiled and shook his head and why was Dean's hand still on Cas' skin? Why wasn't he moving it and why wasn't Cas asking him to?

“It's okay, Dean,” Cas whispered, his eyes soft as he looked down at Dean. “You … you seem to know what you're doing. Do you and Sam do this often?”

Dean sighed, a wave of weariness hitting him. “Too much.”

“I'm... Sorry I'm not always around to help,” Cas said softly and – Christ – why was he apologising for that because he couldn't be everywhere and already did so much for them? Dean shook his head, not trusting his voice for a second and frowned at Cas and Cas just smiled back and – why was the air so suddenly _stifling?_

Dean cleared his throat. “I, don't, Cas, please.” Dean sighed in frustration at himself and the situation. “It's okay. I … How did you get hurt?”

Cas sighed and shrugged a shoulder. “One of the Demons was hiding. It caught me by surprise and got a couple of hits in before I finished it off.”

Dean frowned because Cas sounded so _blasé_ about it as if it didn't matter and that was wrong because it _did._ If that Demon had been quicker or more powerful then Cas might not have gotten up and the thought made Dean's stomach roll.

“Cas... I don't... Thank you,” Dean sighed again. “For everything, I don't say it enough I know. But … I don't know what we'd do without you, Cas. I don't know what _I'd_ do...”

“It's okay, Dean, you don't have to say anything...” Cas said, smiling, and that made Dean's chest tight because Cas really meant it. And maybe it _was_ okay, because maybe Cas really _did_ know what Dean felt and maybe Dean didn't _have_ to say anything but he'd started now and he _wanted_ to...

“Cas,” Dean frowned and huffed a breath, steadying himself, “Please... Look, I'm no good at this, but... I care about you, Cas,” he said, voice catching. “You and Sam, you're all I've got and … I can't lose either of you. And I know I can't talk but when I woke up and you were on the floor... You weren't _moving_ and I thought you were dead and...” he paused, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I don't know what I'd do if... If you were, 'cos you did that for us, Cas. And you're hurt because of us and yeah, maybe Sam, but... You did that for us, for me, and you always do, I don't know why...” Dean trailed off and looked away from Cas because Cas' eyes had softened suddenly and Dean couldn't stand it.

“Dean,” Cas breathed, brushing his fingers over Dean's arm and Dean closed his eyes at the spark of electricity that stuttered across his skin and licked at the base of his spine. Dean's hands were still on Cas and he still wasn't moving them and Cas still wasn't asking him to and it felt weird and claustrophobic and right. “Dean,” Cas continued, a quiet command in his voice that Dean couldn't help but follow. Cas smiled at him. “You've never believed you were worth it. You never thought you deserved to be saved... But you did, Dean. You _are_ worth it. _I_ care about _you_ , about you and Sam. And I can't lose you either. I'll mend, Dean, I'll recover and I'll heal. But you … you humans, you burn so bright and so hot and so fast but you're so fragile. That fire can be snuffed out so easily and that frightens me. Because I've been alive for millennia but I'd never lived before I met you. You have changed me so much, taught me so much. And sometimes it's hard and confusing because I only ever want to do the right thing but – sometimes it isn't easy and it isn't obvious and sometimes I get it wrong. I've made mistakes and I can't promise I won't make any in the future... And so have you, Dean. Sometimes you get it wrong. Sometimes you make mistakes and _you_ might make more too... But you're so hard on yourself. You punish yourself too much and I wish you wouldn't because everything you do you do for the right reasons. Because you're trying to do the right thing and you didn't ask for all this... And I know that no matter what I say you'll never think you're worth it. So I'll keep showing you, Dean. I will save you every time I can no matter what the cost _because_ I can and because I have to because you _are_ worth it. If not for anything, anyone else, you are worth it to _me.”_

Dean's breath hitched, his chest too tight and his lungs too small suddenly. He dropped his head and exhaled a laugh, breathy and amazed because Cas thought all that about _him._ His eyes stung and he closed them for a second, inhaling and exhaling slow and long and blinking his vision clear. When he looked up Cas had a soft, watery look in his eyes and a small half-smile on his face and that really wasn't helping Dean _breathe._..

“Cas... I...” Dean tried, voice thick and heavy with emotion and Cas shook his head, the smile widening just the tiniest and Dean's stomach flipped right over.

“Some date you are,” Cas said then and it was so unexpected, so abruptly different, that Dean's eyes went wide with surprise. Cas laughed at that and squeezed Dean's arm and shrugged as he raised an eyebrow and said, “I'm still waiting for my drink...” It was Dean's turn to laugh then as Cas smirked at him because seriously, would Cas _ever_ stop surprising him? Dean shook his head and smiled right at Cas and that tightness in his chest, the churning in his stomach and the itch under his skin, it all suddenly made sense.

“Alright, alright. Pushy,” Dean said but he was still smiling. He moved to stand and Cas caught his arm, stilling him. Cas' fingers were soft, hesitant and reverent as he brushed his knuckles over the inside of Dean's wrist, and a prick of heat shot up Dean's arm and flared in his stomach. Dean found Cas' eye and the look on his face stole Dean's breath _again –_ there was truth and care and trust and something else, something deeper that darkened Cas' eyes, something like a promise, strange and new and frightening and wonderful and r _ight there for the taking_.

Dean licked his lips and smiled, twining his fingers with Cas' and god how – _soppy –_ was that but Dean couldn't bring himself to care as those stones in his stomach, heavy and constant and stifling, just crumbled down to dust.

“Hey, a little help here?” The tension dropped suddenly, splintering at Sam's noisy interruption, the door banging as he hip-bumped it closed and bags rustling as he jostled them.

Dean sat back, shaking his head in fond-exasperation at his brother. And really he should feel caught - sitting like he is in front of Cas - embarrassed and guilty but he really couldn't be bothered to. He smiled at Cas as he released his hand with a final squeeze and stood up.

“You took your time,” Dean groused good-naturedly at his brother and Sam shot him a glare that was more habit than heat.

“Do you want food or not?” Sam said pointedly. Dean's stomach rumbled in response as he caught a whiff of something he guessed was Chinese and yes, obviously he really did want food. Sam smirked as he grabbed the bag and peered inside.

“Where's the pie?”

Sam rolled his eyes and ignored him, peering over Dean's shoulder and asking Cas, “You in one piece then?”

“Is my _car_ in one piece?” Dean countered with a glare and Sam laughed, shrugging past Dean, bumping his shoulder lightly.

Dean felt a curl of something that could be contentment in his stomach as he busied himself digging through the bag of take-out. He spared a quick glance over to the couch where Sam was fussing over Cas, Cas insisting he was okay and Sam ignoring him and plying him with painkillers and herbal remedies and God knows what else. He caught Cas' eye briefly and the curl in his stomach flared hot like happiness.

So when Sam shot a look from Dean to Cas and back again with a grin that was wide and bright and all-too knowing Dean just smiled and let it go right over his head.

Because Dean knew that _this was it._

And that was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading.
> 
> For any and all key-workers around the world that might be reading this (or any you might know), thank you for doing what you're doing to keep everything going. And for everyone else isolating or distancing themselves, keep your chins up (as we Brits say) and fingers crossed we can all get through this as soon as possible. 
> 
> My heart goes out to anyone adversely affected by this horrid virus. 
> 
> Stay safe and look after each other x


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